Monologues
by agrajagthetesty
Summary: "I have had my share of wealth and power, and the trouble with these things is they only become abundant and useful in one's old age, when one no longer desires them." A series of short character studies in the form of first-person monologues. Complete.
1. To Pursue a Goal

**I. To Pursue a Goal**

The day I killed Lind L Tailor was a momentous day, both for me and for the world at large. Before that day, I had constantly told myself that I was ready for the challenges I would have to face and aware of the opposition I would encounter, but my understanding was entirely hollow. I see now that the way I reacted to that broadcast- so rash, so thoughtless- was an indication that in fact I had not been prepared, at least on the emotional level. Intellectually I had no concerns: I was certain that my abilities outstripped those of anyone I would come into contact with. No, it was being called evil, so soon after my crisis of guilt and when I had not yet settled into my role as saviour, that provoked my anger and the hasty response that I later regretted so strongly. I underestimated the enemy. It was a mistake I vowed never to make again.

However, it is not underestimating L to say that the incident had a side effect that he hadn't anticipated, and one that would lead to his downfall. It was that challenge, not face-to-face yet still so direct and personal, that led me to pledge myself fully to my cause and to his destruction. I have never since looked back. How can I? One must be single-minded to pursue a goal such as mine.

Indeed, such determination is necessary merely to maintain the situation as it is currently. There is not a single person in the world able to imagine the extent of the pressure placed upon me from all sides. I am not referring merely to eluding capture, but also to the moral war I am waging. The attitudes I fight are not only located in the criminal classes, but infect politicians, businessmen, the media and even, the biggest threat of all, those who claim to follow me. As time passes I only grow more convinced that I cannot trust anyone else with my mission, not even the superficially loyal, for fear of my message being distorted and my name misused. I have no choice but to bypass a representative and personally control the groups that would support me: anyone else would be liable to fall prey to the creeping corruption that I have already detected, spreading like dry rot through the otherwise worthy ranks.

There were those who, like L and those who arrogantly attempted to follow in his footsteps, were quick to judge and condemn such attitudes as egotistical. But if they had only seen clearly, they would have realised their error. How could I continue chasing my objective if every irrelevant personal criticism was so wounding to my ego? Although dissenting voices were gradually silenced, opposition has always remained; those who would go out of their way to insult me only grew louder as their numbers decreased. I can bear it because I know they criticise _me_, nothing more or less, and contrary to the hasty assumptions of L and his fan club I am not out to earn love for myself. Little attacks on my personality I can handle. I know that there is nobody who will condemn my perfect world when it is finally realised. All dissent will fade- naturally, without the use of force. What sort of man would raise his voice against utopia?

This is why I can walk the streets. This is why I can live my life as I do, and why I can look my family in the eye. It's common sense that any vast change comes at the price of a period of instability while the population adjusts, and yet already I can see for myself the thousands I have saved and the millions I have aided. The cliché goes that the ends justify the means, and while I hesitate to use such a crude generalisation, I can see the merit in it in my own case.

Ever since the day I killed Lind L Tailor, I have only had two choices available to me. To turn back, which would undo all that I have worked for and signify my failure and surrender, or to continue, which may lead to destruction. And that choice is no choice at all.

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_Author's notes: I've written nine of these, for the simple reason that I couldn't think of ten characters that I wanted to write. XD;_

_The next one will hopefully be up in a week or so. Meanwhile, please take the time to review if you can. :D_


	2. The Thrill of the Chase

**II. The Thrill of the Chase**

In my line of work, it is rare that I find myself in a situation in which I am required to discuss my own mind, my own thoughts, my own goals and my own tactics, rather than those of another. I could go so far as to say that I am in fact uncharacteristically passive in my relations with others: while other people are constantly informing me of their interpretations of my character, I rarely offer a response. In particular, I have noted more than once that the investigators I communicate with are surprisingly unafraid to criticise me. It would be comforting to think that they are simply unaware of the power I yield, but I am aware that it is most likely due to the typical human inability to think of others as people unless they are directly in front of them. This is of no concern to me, and may even prove beneficial in the future, but one cannot be on the receiving end of so much analysis without engaging in some way with the thoughts being offered.

One opinion that I have heard expressed is that my methods are reckless, even foolish. While I do wonder how those that hold these opinions reconcile them with the evidence available, I can appreciate that my tactics are often dangerous and are avoided by all of my rivals. However, this may be one reason why I, unafraid to visit crime scenes, confront suspects directly and so on, have emerged as the leading mind in the field. By taking these risks, I earn the advantage of unfiltered information: clues drawn from body language, facial nuances, social strata, the precise structures of a conversation and other such sources, impossible to detect by any other method.

Then there are those that call me selfish. I have never denied possessing such a trait, nor do I intend to. While there is no doubt that the work I do proves beneficial to others, in this capacity my talents only become useful after a crime has already occurred. It is not what happens before a murder is committed, and the ways to prevent such an event from occurring, that interests me: I only involve myself in the process that takes place afterwards. I am in fact driven by the purely personal motive of simple enjoyment; I think it is called the thrill of the chase. The fact that there is a popular phrase for it at least proves that I am not the only one to revel in such a thing- indeed, I believe that one cannot reach my level of expertise without a selfish motivation. Nevertheless, I appreciate that this does not excuse my treatment of the people I deal with.

Elementary psychology states that people grow accustomed to living and being treated in a certain manner, and begin to behave as if this treatment is certain to be delivered- a self-fulfilling prophecy if ever there was one. My own case would seem to uphold the theory. Throughout my life, I have always been the most intelligent in any group of people I found myself placed among. Additionally, I have been kept in isolation: constantly protected, my abilities nurtured, my needs catered to. Looking at it from an outsider's perspective, it is no wonder that I began to treat solving cases as entertainment and their perpetrators as inanimate objects to catch and add to my collection.

Light Yagami is different, and rightly so. He too has been cherished and encouraged; he too is used to looking on other people as nothing but pawns in his personal game of chess. We share, I believe, more similarities than differences. Just knowing that he, like me, will never back down, never yield, never allow himself to be used while himself constantly attempting to manipulate- this excites me more than a thousand other, more routine cases ever could. As for what happens when two such similar yet opposing forces confront each other, even from an objective standpoint I am eager to find out.

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_Author's notes: Next one up in a week or so. As ever, reviews would be greatly appreciated._


	3. When a Rock Star Dies

**III. When a Rock Star Dies**

I'm not obsessive, you know. I don't think you get that. I'm just enthusiastic. They used to call me that when I was a child. They'd say, "As for her work, she's… enthusiastic," and people would laugh and I didn't understand. Then they'd call me a little heartbreaker and say how the boys were going to love me, and I'd smile all over and feel like my feet were going to lift off the ground in my happiness. So I've always been like this. There was boy band after boy band, and each ex-crush's name, carefully contained within hearts drawn in silver pencil across all my books, would be scribbled out impatiently and lovingly replaced with the name of my new future husband. I don't mean to make you jealous but I'm just telling you- I was always passionate, and committed to the things I like.

Oh, I'm getting this all wrong.

What I wanted to tell you was that I'm not obsessive, not at all. It was easy to find you, actually, once you got my messages. I was just trying to get a reply from you, so I'd know that you knew about me. That's all I wanted. I didn't think it looked so suspicious. I should say thank you for not being what I expected and for having a weird name. I might never have found you otherwise. You probably get this too- it's a lot harder to remember faces and names if you really need to. But with you there was no trouble.

I'm not obsessive. People died, but people die all the time, you understand that. You're killed innocents, too. I read the papers. People get in your way and you kill them. It's the same as me, and I only wanted to meet you. They died so I could help you, just like you've killed people so you can carry on. You see, we're the same after all. I've always known that.

I'm not obsessive. I know I said I'd die for you, and I meant that, but it doesn't mean very much to me. You know when a rock star dies and they do a feature in the magazines? There's always a picture of them there, young, at the height of their fame, all in leather or sequins. But you know they didn't look like that when they died- they were old and fat and tired, and the drugs probably showed on their faces by then, too. I don't want to be like that. I don't want to get old and lose my fans and be called a has-been. I want to get better and bigger and brighter all my life, and I want the picture of me in the newspaper columns after I die to look exactly like I do in the coffin. That's why I can say I'd die for you.

I'm not obsessive. But you're all I have. For a long time- and I don't want to talk about it very much but it's the sort of thing I have to tell you for us to be together, you know- I didn't want to live any more. But you and what you do- you've given me hope. You've given me more than I can ever repay. So you can see that you don't need to worry about me. I'd never do anything that you didn't want me to.

That's all I wanted to tell you.

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_Author's notes: Next up soon. :)_


	4. A Brain in a Jar

**IV. A Brain in a Jar**

I saw it on television, some mindless "talent" programme aimed at even more mindless audiences- a man in a satin suit stood on purple carpet and said, "We all have a dream." It is a phrase that I recall even now, and after so many years I still cannot understand head or tail of it. Dream? I have more than one, at least assuming that by dream he meant ambition. "Dream" is such a strange word to choose to express this concept. The dreams I have at night do not usually coincide with my aspirations. We all? What an indiscriminate assertion. Had this man spoken to every person in the world? Did he ask specific questions about individual dreams or simply confirm the presence of one? What about babies or the comatose? And do we "have" dream? In my experience, dreams have us. At least, that is the case for the majority of people I know. Ambitions run away with them and before you know it, their very life is secondary to that purpose.

This is not the case with me. My dreams are fluid like mercury, impossible to pin down yet coherent none the less. They are shaped by my thoughts, never the other way around. I think that this is probably the reason why I have a history of success: I can think clearly, as I know that a loss would not devastate me.

Except, of course, in the case of Kira, this classic exception to so many rules. A loss would cost me my life, which I suppose would devastate me in the technical sense. But more than that, a loss would mean Kira's permanent victory, something that would never be challenged or undone. I am responsible for preventing such a thing, and this requires a total and utter defeat for Kira and all he is. I am also responsible for the continuation of L's legacy, a task which necessitates me to still be alive. And yet, while all these requirements are real and impose highly important and specific targets for me to achieve, I still feel as if that strange assertion of "We all have a dream" does not apply to me.

I have been told many times that I don't fully engage myself with the world, a comment that perhaps explains the disparity I see between myself and those that fall into the category of "we all". I always used to dismiss the accusation as patently false- after all, I live on the same world as everyone else. I interact with objects and with people; I make a tangible difference to them through my own actions. Anyone who considers me isolated or aloof is at odds with the facts of the matter.

But then I look at Kira or I look at Mello and I realise that compared to them, I am. They feed off the external, requiring confrontation with opposing views and people in order to learn things about themselves. It is not so in my case. Everything I am comes from inside my head. I believe that L was the same.

You may have heard of the old philosophical question of how you can be certain that the world you experience is not merely a simulation, generated by machines and fed directly to your brain in a jar- all other parts of your body being obsolete. It is a concept that is clearly intended to shock. And yet as far as I am concerned, it has never been able to do so. I already live as if the hypothesis had been proven.

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_Author's notes: Updates haven't been as regular as I'd planned, so sorry about that. I'm still seeing this through, though. :)_


	5. Nothing Quite So Sinful

**V. Nothing Quite So Sinful**

I'm the sort of person that either commits myself to something completely or rejects it outright- an exhausting attitude, certainly, yet so temptingly addictive all the same- and the more I look back over my life the more I realise what a disadvantage my inherent nature has proven. The logical part of my mind constantly tells me that it isn't possible for a person to be wholly good or- as I more often think- wholly reprehensible. And yet the rest of my mind (I would say my heart if not for the repulsive connotations of that word) does not seem to listen. Despite every attempt I make to see things objectively, everyone I see is tainted with my illogical yet irresistible perceptions: some people are just _bad_, and others, few and far between, are everything humans ought to be.

All the same, this perception isn't always a hindrance. Take the people I'm forced to work with. I would never associate myself with thugs like this by choice- men that use their fists to think and their guns to reason- but, as they say, desperate times. Nobody would argue that they were good people, and it's a more straightforward process for me to isolate myself from them if my emotions as well as my intellect are repelled.

Yes, emotions can be of benefit. They, more than anything else these days, are what make me feel alive. Nothing thrills the mind and rouses the blood quite like lust, or rage, or jealousy. This concoction has been my bread and butter for years now- although the bread is infused with caffeine and the butter with chilli spice. It's like cheap alcohol: it burns your throat and it numbs your pain and it makes you feel stupidly, helplessly _good_. No wonder these feelings are said to be sinful. A trait cannot be classified as a sin if it isn't enjoyable. Sin is by its very nature a fire that we want to roast in.

Because despite how bad it is for my "heart", for my "soul", I can't deny how much I rely on my own sins. Where would I be without them? Certainly not fighting, possibly not alive. Without my lust, I would not have any motivation to begin each day. I would have nothing to look forward to. If it weren't for my jealousy, defeat would not motivate me to strike back. It would crush me. And without my anger, I would not want to avenge the death of my idol. I would not want to do anything.

I sometimes think there's nothing quite so sinful as enjoying sin.

And so it goes on. Perhaps I strike at someone and give him no chance to turn the other cheek, or perhaps I sleep with another man, or perhaps I shoot someone down just because they were in my way. And perhaps I feel guilty for an hour, or perhaps for a day, but fairly soon I am able to go down on my knees and ask for forgiveness. Whether or not I get a reply, the mere act of doing so allows me to tell myself I am forgiven. And so I get up and walk on, over and over, day in, day out, sin sin sin sin sin.

And forgive me, Father, but it feels good.


	6. A Cage of Mice

**VI. A Cage of Mice**

I guess you could say I've always been a bit of an outsider. The others gave up on me a long time ago, calling me a weirdo, and they said I was ugly, too. Not as an insult- but even if it was I wouldn't have cared, it's hardly important is it?- but just as a fact. I don't see the point in that. It's not like anyone needs to be told about how they look, ugly or pretty. Where I come from, it's usually too dark to tell. Besides, I i_know/i_ I'm ugly. I've had a long time to come to terms with it, shall we say.

Anyway, that's not the point. The point is I hate gambling. That was the problem, that's what made me stand out. I'm not so different that I care about things other than entertainment- not like Rem or Gelus- I just get so ibored/i by those games. Nothing to play for, nothing at risk, just a circle of death gods and little relevance. You either win or lose, either way it's the same. I'm not a thrillseeker, far from it- I don't want danger or anything like that- I don't want to die or feel pain, so I don't break the rules and then I don't have to. But I like to think that there's something going on, something that matters. It's more interesting. It's why watching humans, who fight and hurt and die, is more fun than watching shinigami, who don't. So for me, craving excitement but fearing the consequences, there was only one option.

I've heard other shinigami talk about me, calling me the puppeteer of the whole thing, but they're wrong about that. A puppeteer controls his puppets, if I remember right- it's one of those hilarious human ideas, the sort of thing that they all just accept and never see how stupid it is- but I'm not like that. I'm more like a kid who throws a tarantula into a cage of mice. I didn't have a favourite, I wasn't rooting for anyone, the results interested me about as much as the name and personality of every spider they'd ever killed would interest the average human. When you drop dynamite into a rabbit hole you don't pin your hopes on a particular rabbit. You just want to watch what happens.

I don't tell the other shinigami that, not when they bring me apples in exchange for hearing about it. I'm a bit of a celebrity these days, actually. Maybe it makes sense. None of ithem/i could ever be bothered to do what I did. But it gets a bit boring just telling them the same thing over and over. I didn't understand everything that was happening even at the time, and by now it's impossible for me to get it clear in my head. But it makes a bad story if I get repetitive or say I don't remember, so I make things up. I say there was a shoot-out in the middle of the street, like in the movies I saw there. Why not? That would have been interesting.


	7. The Validity of God

**VII. The Validity of God**

The first thought that went through my head on that day was that I had been blessed. I remember that I wept with happiness as I faced the solid proof of my suspicions. While I had already seen evidence of God's favour for me before then, I had never dared to commit my faith to the idea that He might have seen some special quality in me: although it had appeared that way, I was hesitant to accept it for fear of arrogance. At that moment, however, I was certain of it. He was real, He was the hope of humankind, healing the world, and I had been chosen to help Him. Such overwhelming joy.

The second thought I experienced, which struck me as I was placing the notebook on my desk (I recall that I was shaking at the time, a notion which I find surprising but which is implanted so firmly in my memory that it would be foolish to dismiss it) was doubt. It was not over the validity of God, but rather whether I would be able to fulfil my duty. Was I worthy of this? Why was I, above everyone else, selected for this task? The thought was strange, considering that the mere fact of my being chosen ought to have demonstrated my suitability, but beings such as myself cannot always think logically, and the truth is that I doubted. I worried, I hesitated, and as I took my pen in my hands I wondered whether the touch of a less than holy creature would desecrate God's weapon forever.

The sight on those hideous men broadcasting themselves to the nation, claiming divinity while abusing God's name, was enough to rekindle my resolve.

I believe now that the greatest respect I can show the Lord is obedience. This, more than trust and far more than the useless thoughts and analysis of lesser beings, is what He requires from us, and in this respect (putting arrogance aside) I am surely the best disciple He could ask for. I cannot expect to always understand His orders, as His thoughts far surpass my own limited understanding, but I will always, unfailingly and without question, carry them out to the best of my ability. I know that my God is righteous, and He will reward my efforts just as He punishes the actions of the sinners.

Yet I also know that it is wrong for me to involve Him in my petty imaginings. This does not prevent certain baser, less intellectual parts of myself from doing so. This section of my mind tells me that it is only natural to wonder, to speculate, to consider (since I know that He possesses a physical presence) whether He might show Himself to me one day. Such thoughts are akin to blasphemy, however, and I must cast them aside for the sake of my soul. Whether God will meet me or will not is for Him alone to decide. In the meantime we mortals need do nothing but obey.


	8. All These Big Flaws

**VIII. All These Big Flaws**

I'd like to be able to tell you that being a police officer is the most exciting job in the world. Maybe you want to hear how we run around guns blazing, chasing criminals, fighting mobsters, and capturing at least one murderer every week. I think I'd quite enjoy that, but if it was true I probably wouldn't have lasted this long. I know that on the rare occasion events do heat up, being able to think logically and make quick, smart decisions is just as important as the ability to hit the centre of the target with every shot fired. I didn't have to learn that, by the way, I'm just naturally good at it. But like I said it's not all that matters.

I didn't believe in the glamour of the police as a kid, despite all the shows I watched on TV. Having a cop in your family means you can't watch crime dramas without having all the excitement ruined by being told what it's really like. But I still wanted to be on the force. I liked the idea of being respected- little did I know- and helping ordinary people from day to day. Even that turned out to be a fantasy. When you're up to your ears in paperwork with no end in sight, it doesn't feel like you're doing very much for your community.

Maybe that's why I am where I am today. I wanted to show everyone that, whether or not I can do all that much to help under normal circumstances, I'm committed to my job and to the ideals of the legal system. Sometimes that's worth risking it all for. Even putting that aside, wouldn't anyone jump at the chance to really change the world and be involved in an exciting case like this? It's like I'm living in the shows I used to watch. I may have my complaints about my work these days, but I could never call it boring.

I'm not like all these geniuses I keep meeting- I would say I'm a magnet for geniuses but it's probably nothing to do with me- I passed my exams with roughly average results and I had to work really hard even for that. I wouldn't have done if I thought I could get away with it but I wanted to please my parents- the same story you've probably heard a thousand times before. It's all to do with your standards of course, but compared to the people I work with right now I'm completely stupid. I don't mind, not that much. I knew I wasn't really smart enough for the intellectual side of this job, right from the start. The others can see that I'm dedicated and I care, which is what I wanted to show them from the start. I'm not sure the world would work very well if we were all super-intelligent anyway.

People always say that intellect alone isn't enough and we need other skills to function in life, that the cleverest usually have all these big flaws that make them weakened in other areas. Perhaps it's right to say so, but what happens when everyone you speak to from day to day disagrees? What happens when everything you have to do- everything important, anyway, depends only on intelligence?

What happens is I make the coffee.


	9. Being the Pedestal

**IX. Being the Pedestal**

This life is not what I imagined when I had the idea to cultivate my own detective. Not that I pictured glamour and fame: even then I was far too old and tired to be drawn to such ideas, and when one has worked in as many fields as I have one becomes marginally more cynical and rooted in fact than it is possible to be whilst still aspiring to that lifestyle.

However, I certainly never imagined that I would become the live-in maid of an overgrown child. To be sure, he was a child at the time, but he was startlingly rational and intelligent, and I saw only the mature qualities in him. Now he is an adult, I see only the basest and most childlike aspects of his personality: an irony that was uniquely irritating when I first became aware of it. Perhaps I was simply frustrated at the thought that the detective whose raw intellect outstrips most of his colleagues combined could be the same man - man! - who refused to eat his vegetables or go to bed on time.

Back when this behaviour could be legitimately excused, I did not try to contain it. It is possible that my wariness of placing boundaries on such an extraordinary mind led me to be foolish. He would have had no difficulty in discovering for himself that what he wanted was not always what was good for him, and giving him orders only worsened his blind stubbornness. Better to let him learn how to behave on his own accord, I reasoned. It is possible that this decision is what allowed the seed of the troubles to take root. Alternatively (and I find this more plausible) he would have turned out the same way regardless of whether I interfered, and I flatter myself to think that my efforts to control him would have had any effect whatsoever.

I do not regret my choices- not the choice to let him govern his own life, nor the choice to take on the venture in the beginning. The fact remains that I am unimportant, my legacy, contacts and skills forming the vessel for his incredible ability. Any complaints I may have regarding the situation deserve to be thoroughly disregarded. I have had my share of wealth and power, and the trouble with these things is that they only become abundant and useful in one's old age, when one no longer desires them. Using my legacy to change the world- but behind the scenes, quietly from the comfort of a hotel room- I have no doubt that this is preferable to retirement. Indeed, there are many who would envy my lifestyle, from the dangers associated with it right down to the endless preparation of strawberry sundaes. Certainly I would not exchange this for a seemingly more dignified post. There is dignity to be found in being the pedestal, as well as the statue.

The nature of our relationship is an unusual one. He does not thank me for the material goods and the status I have given him, and I do not thank him for saving me from the horrors of elderly idleness. Nevertheless I have grown fond of the boy, and I am not ashamed of my treatment of him. I am hardly the first doting carer to spoil his child with sweets.

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_Author's notes: The final monologue of the series. Thank you for reading. :D_


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